By Its Very Definition
by Mystikat
Summary: Glee is about opening yourself up to joy... and possible humiliation. Various drabbles, mostly Rachel/Puck, a wide range of genres and ratings. Consistently under 1000 words each. Maybe.
1. Puck & Rachel, A Space Between

**By Its Very Definition**

**Title: **A Space Between

**Rating: **K

**Characters: **The Berrys + The Puckermans

**Note: **Prompt "Puck/Rachel - adoption". Set pre-series, and with my AU spin.

* * *

The year his dad leaves is the year the Berrys next door acquire a daughter. He's eleven, she's ten, and they're both lonely (because lonely doesn't have to mean alone). Her name is Rachel, and someday she's going to be a star and go back to New York because "Ohio is too small for my inevitable fame", but he thinks that New York is still where home is for her, and he wonders if his dad misses them just as much as she misses the city she was taken from.

It's stupid, the difference is obvious. His father had a choice, Rachel didn't.

Their families observe Sabbath together, he and Rachel sitting side by side, her near-constant chatter filling the space until he feels suffocated by it. Her newly appointed dads just seem overjoyed that their initially reserved charge seems to be blossoming, and his mom is charmed by the big personality in such a small body. (She takes up so much space, but he still feels another's absence. It doesn't occur to him that she's looking to fill an empty space too.)

A letter comes one day. That's what all it takes. Rachel disappears in the early morning and by twilight her fathers are near frantic; she's only been here for half the summer, Lima is still a relatively strange place-considering her inclination to stick to the temple (where performing arts classes are available as well as religious services) and their block. It doesn't take long for a search party to be organized. Puck is the one to find her, though. Sitting on a bench at the Greyhound station, staring down at a piece of paper.

"It's from my mom," she intones as he plops down next to her.

"Yeah?"

"Yes." She swallows, "She says she regrets never getting the chance to explain. She wants me to know that someday we'll be together again, and I'll understand."

He clenches his hands to fists, because he's heard this shit before.

"My mother is a liar, isn't she?"

And, because Puck isn't his father, and she's not her mother, he tells her the truth. "You're ours now, you know? 'S'all that matters."

"I thought you didn't like me, Noah. Aren't you the one who told my two new gay dads to 'send me back'?"

"What? I can't change my mind? _Jeez_, Berry."

She smiles, "I guess I am that now. I'm going to go far with that name." Rachel Berry (honorary Puckerman, future star) lets go of the letter, and reaches for his hand.

It's not so hard to find family, if you know where to look. They had just been lucky in that they didn't have to look too far.


	2. Puck & Rachel, Did You Ever Say

**By Its Very Definition**

**Title:** Did You Ever Say A Prayer For Me?

**Rating: **T

**Characters: **Puck/Rachel, some glee club members

**Note: **Another **puckrachel** prompt "If he knew that six months later he'd be at HER bedside, he would've never sung "Only The Good Die Young"." Lots of angst.

* * *

In the chair opposite him across the bed, her dad is holding her hand. Holding her hand, it should be as simple as that, right? There's nothing simple about it. Her dad is holding her hand, forehead pressed against the back of it, his body tense against the weight of suppressing his tears - using her hand as the anchor to weather what must be storming in his head. Puck knows that he won't let himself break down until his partner returns to take his shift at their daughter's bedside. He'll find someplace quiet, maybe press his cheek against a glass pane, let the winter chill seep into him from the outside, let it numb him a little, and then he'll cry.

Puck knows, because her dad and him aren't so different, not in this. For Puck, though, it's too much to even reach for her, almost too much to look at her. But he stays, he promised her when they started their... whatever that he wouldn't go anywhere and it had been enough. She'd been so weary of the boyfriend/girlfriend game that it might have even been a relief. Two months, and last week had been the first time he'd grasped and laced his fingers through hers. She'd smiled, softly, that smile that was just for him.

Puck knows that it would be a bastardization of that moment to grasp for it now. That had also been the moment he knew he wanted her for keeps, wanted the label and her promise to not go away. He should have made her promise. Irrationally, he thinks she wouldn't be here now if he had. It's his fault. Puck has never believed in fate, instead taking life as it comes, but he can't help hearing the echoes of "Only The Good-", again and again. He should have remembered the lengths that show choirs will go to when they want to win - he's lived with Rachel's insanity long enough. Of course, she wasn't criminally insane.

Not like the people who had cut her brake line. Now pleading ignorance as to what they've done. Claiming a lack of judgment in a harmless (are you _fucking serious_?) prank between rivals. He wants to show they how "harmless" he could be to them if it didn't mean he had to leave her to do it.

Kurt had sat with him, not too long ago, asked him why he didn't seek comfort in her. He doesn't deserve it. He was the one who was supposed to give her a lift that morning, but he'd begged off, pleaded a late night and the need to sleep in for once instead of getting her to school a whole hour early. He swears to her that he'll fucking camp out at school with her if that's what she needs, he'll never leave her alone and vulnerable again, just please. Wake. Up.

The glee club sings to her, asking for God to bring her back (Tina even looks up a Jewish spiritual, because Puck just can't. Billy Joel is mocking him). Kurt presses a kiss to her forehead, tells her that he'd have never gotten to where he was as a singer without her pushing them all, without chasing after her. He tells her he'll give her every solo if she'll just wake up and sing again.

She won't. Puck knows it, grieves for their faith and hope, knowing the devastation that will follow soon. Because Rachel is beautiful and serene, even wrapped in bandages and bruised, her breathing slight, calmly waiting for God.

She'll leave him, all of them, because she's been such a good girl, and she deserves some peace.

But he stays, because he promised. He promised.

He won't leave. He can't fail her again.

**End.**

* * *

I also wrote a (very) mini-sequel after it was requested that I bring Rachel back. Just for shits and giggles.

**Here: **"Rachel wakes up to find a relieved but traumatized Puck, who, after many weeks, consents to therapy. They confess their undying love for each other, win first place at Nationals, and all the bad guys are punished soundly for their deeds.

Then marriage and babies and Broadway. Puck becomes a paramedic, with the knowledge that they played a huge part in making sure his wife is still alive today.

There is singing and dancing, but Billy Joel is now taboo in the Puckerman household (therapy only does so much). The end."


	3. Brittany & Mike, I'll Follow If You Lead

**By Its Very Definition**

**Title: **I'll Follow If You Lead

**Rating: **K

**Characters: **Mike, Brittany

**Note: **Prompted by "Flexibility" and set pre-series.

* * *

Here's a secret only Mike Chang knows; English is the third language that Brittany had to learn upon moving to Lima, Ohio from The Netherlands. She'd been seven and so confused, and she just wasn't a fast learner to begin with. Brittany was that strange foreign girl at recess that no one talked to unless they wanted to hear a slew of Dutch. He was of the same mind, at first, not unsympathetic (he'd grown up in a bilingual house, himself) but highly aware that two kids with different first languages trying to share a second language was just an exercise in frustration.

Until the day he stumbles upon her dancing.

He'd forgotten his bag at the gym, and only realized about an hour after school ended. Of course, when he'd gone back to retrieve it, the place had been near deserted besides the janitor, so he hadn't expected to see Lima Elementary's latest oddity with a Barbie radio cranked up to some pop station. She was spinning, arms wide, hair whipping around-singing along in broken imitation. Mike had watched as she gasped with laughter when she collapsed from dizziness, shifting onto her back and then lifting into a crab walk. A little girl playing by herself, uninhibited like he hadn't seen her at school, like he only was in his room.

Her giggles cut out once she spotted him watching her, and for a while they just looked at each other. Then, slowly, Mike had bent backwards until his hands also lay flat on the floor, smiling when he heard her squeak of surprise, a string of Dutch flowing from her lips. He might not have understood a word, but he heard the awed tone, the delight when he shifted once again, bringing his legs up until he balanced on his hands alone.

Mike remembered her slanted smile, like she had a secret, before she too lifted her legs and imitated his stance, unabashed that her skirt was upside down.

So it began, a game of mirrors, pushing each other further and further, her smug when he'd encountered difficulty with the splits that she could do so easily, and he taunting when he twisted in a boneless grace that left her stunned.

A language they both understood. One that they never stopped talking with even as her English improved, because Dutch may have been her first language, and English her third, but this was their second language, this movement they mastered over years.

Fluent and fluid. Expressing what sometimes words just couldn't.


	4. Puck & Rachel, Rationalization

**By Its Very Definition**

**Title:** Rationalization

**Rating: **T

**Characters: **Puck, Rachel

**Note: **Prompted by "Rachel comes to Puck when she figures out that Beth is his, not to Finn".

* * *

"You're not a very good person."

He doesn't look up, just snorts and rolls his eyes.

"You're also not very smart, either. As promiscuous as you are, condoms are vital not only as contraceptives, but also as an important preventive against STIs."

Pucks freezes in his causal fiddling with his guitar. Despite the needlessly big words, he understands her meaning perfectly. "How long have you known?"

"I suspected, you just confirmed it."

He plucks a string, studies the floor. "You gonna tell Finn?"

"As I'm sure you know, I care deeply about Finn, he's my friend. I'll even admit that I want him to be more, and, as you once pointed out, that just wasn't a possibility with Quinn's... condition. It might hurt him, but this might be my only chance - _our_ only chance." He's looking at her now, his face unreadable. "I don't quite understand why you haven't told him yourself."

"Just answer the fucking question; are you gonna tell him?"

"I _have_ to."

She thinks she sees him smile, but he's turned his face from her again.

"Good."


	5. Puck & Rachel, Bottoms Up

**By Its Very Definition**

**Title: **Bottoms Up

**Rating: **M [sex, language]

**Characters: **Puck/Rachel

**Note:** LJ community **puckrachel** prompt "(240): And then I have a slight inkling that I went up to the bar and tried to order the bartender." AU because I can.

* * *

Contrary to what some might believe, Puck has always been a light sleeper, so when he feels the body next to him shift up and away, he opens his eyes in time to see a naked back attached to the woman sitting at the edge of his bed. She's pulling her hair back into a twist and he's struck by just how fucking hot he finds that, that she's putting up her hair before putting on her clothes. So hot, that he just can't let the clothes part happen.

With that thought in mind, he slides over and presses an open mouthed kiss onto her neck. She makes a startled little sound, a cross between a gasp and a squeak (damn this girl is sexy) followed by a sigh when he pulls her against his chest and strokes his fingers just under her left nipple. He's immediately rewarded for this when she turns in his arms and, like, _attacks_ his mouth. She straddles his legs, seeking contact, and they both let out a hiss when that also brings their hips into contact - shit, he's practically burning and drowning all at once against her and if he just shifted down and up then he could be exactly where they both want him.

He fists a hand in her hair and prepares to do just that when she breathes out, "Condom." This girl is seriously driving him out of his mind because he _knows_ that. He tells her, too, fumbling in the bedside drawer, "Yes, yeah, I know that. Sorry. Fuck."

"Oh God, okay, shut up, it's okay just _do it_ already."

They both watch him roll it on until his hands move to her hips and her mouth drifts to his shoulder and he lifts and yanks her closer in the same motion, groaning at the feel of her teeth pressing on his shoulder as he presses deeper into her. For just a moment he holds still, long enough to rasp out, "Damn, baby, we're nowhere near done and you're already the best I ever had." Her teeth clutch a bit harder in response; she clenches around him and he lets loose, unable to prevent himself from doing so even if he'd wanted to.

**{&}**

The afterglow settling over them, he traces his fingers down her spine to the dip in her back, feeling a bit smug watching her dazed and nestled into his pillow. Placing his hand on his ass, he finally asks, "Where the fuck did I find a girl like you?"

She laughs, closes her eyes. "You ordered a drink."

He feels a pang of disappointment... yeah, he doesn't know her, but she just seems, fuck, too classy to go home with a guy over one drink. He _knows_ women, okay? This is a woman who deserves dinner at places with table cloths. Damn, he wants to get her that dinner, like, a lot of dinners. What kind of sexual magic is this chick working on him?

Instead he murmurs, "Must of been some drink, babe."

"Hmmm, you have no idea." She glances sideways at him, "It might have been unethical going home with you last night, since apparently your memory loss indicates that I should have cut you off earlier."

"You were our bartender." She smiles. "You were our bartender and I ordered a drink from you to give to you?"

"Oh no, you asked for, to quote 'the bar's special' and when I tried to clarify which one, you answered 'you'." He's gaping at her, some part of him thinking _I am a motherfucking stud_ (like that wasn't already apparent) when she goes on to add, "I excel at customer service and satisfaction, I'll have you know."

Fuck, she's hot. "Babe, I bet there's not much you don't excel at."

She lets out a mock sigh, "My curse to bear, but yes, I can't deny it."

At that, he has to kiss her, only pulling away to groan, "So, this bar special, does she have a name?"

She tugs him back to her and, lips brushing over his, answers, "The Rachel Berry, two shots whiskey, one shot cherry vodka, mixed with Sprite, one-hundred percent rising star, and meant to be savored... with slow sips," a fleeting kiss. "And long draws." Then not so fleeting. "You're not a light weight, are you? Some people find it too much to handle." Her flirtation falters a little at this, a slight sadness there and gone in her eyes.

"Baby, I can hold my liquor, here, let me prove it to you."

He does.


	6. Puck & Rachel, You Are What You Eat

**By Its Very Definition**

**Title: **You Are What You Eat

**Rating: **T

**Characters:** Puck/Rachel

**Note:** LJ **puckrachel** prompt "rachel eats puck's special brownies & gets high for the first time".

* * *

He finds her flat on her back on the kitchen floor, balancing a bowl of re-fried beans on her stomach.

He stands there for a moment, staring, before asking, "Wanna tell me what you're doing down there, babe?" (A part of him immediately regrets asking, because whatever her reasoning is, it's always going to be told _at length_.)

She tilts her head back slightly to look at him, smiles gently. "Not before you tell me why you're still standing up there." That's when he notices the chocolate smear on the corner of her mouth.

Well, shit. He glances at the tray he'd left on the counter, positive that Berry would never let up on her current diet madness to sample any. He might've warned her otherwise. At least a quarter are gone. He doubts she was sharing with the neighbors.

She dips her fingers into her bowl and brings a glop of beans to her mouth, moaning at the taste and squirming a little and _shit_, she's going to be so pissed when she comes down, but this is kinda awesome.

Rachel looks at him again, setting aside her food to reach out her arms for him and whine playfully. He smiles, grabs some brownies, and joins her.

**{&}**

She doesn't speak to him for two days, which is pretty fucking impressive for her, and he can't help but think that she sucks at punishing him because a little peace and quiet is never a bad thing.

Until it occurs to him that it's just _too_ quiet. It reminds him of horror movies where the sound cuts out just before monster grabs its next victim and, like, pops their skull open.

It's kinda creepy.

And, _okay_, he misses her constant chatter even if he's not always listening. It's comforting. Shut up. That doesn't mean he has _deep feelings_ going on or anything. That's been there since the first year of Glee, long before he moved in with her and it doesn't mean _anything_.

So he decides to do something about it - she's going to speak to him again, like it or not. He doesn't even care if it will be about something obnoxious. (It probably will be.)

He goes shopping.

Rachel is sitting at the kitchen counter (the scene of the crime, according to her) when he comes in with the grocery bags. She doesn't even look up as he puts everything away, or thanks him for running the errand that was her turn, but whatever. He was there anyway.

When he places the carton in front of her, she looks at it and then scowls at him. He grins.

"I'm on a diet." She snaps.

"Like you haven't made an exception for brownies before."

She legit looks like she's about to throw her book at him. Instead she hisses "_fine_" at him and slams it down to get up and retrieve a spoon. She actually completely forgoes a bowl and rips the lid off the container, spooning the ice cream into her mouth.

After a few bites, her face softens a little and she mutters, "Just... leave a note next time. Please."

He sits down in the chair next to her, and she lets him put his arm around her shoulders, settling into him. When he goes to steal a bite, though, she cuts him with a look.

"What?" He pouts. "I shared mine with you."

She pulls an unimpressed look, but then starts in on how her day went, and he knows that everything is just fine. He's home again.

* * *

I'd like to say that Ben & Jerry's Magic Brownies ice cream is the fucking best. If you didn't catch my "sly" and "subtle" references to its healing relationship powers.


	7. Puck & Rachel, Strings and Circumstance

**By Its Very Definition**

**Title:** Strings and Circumstance

**Rating:** K

**Characters: **Puck/Rachel

**Note: puckrachel** prompt "http:/ browse. deviantart. com /photography/ ?qh= §ion;= &q= goodbye/ dgfspn" Just remove the spaces!

* * *

She can hear him out in the garage, buzzing away at some block of wood, probably with no intention other than to just _do_ something. Noah has always been very hands-on in this way, tactile and physical - just so _solid_ in her world that he had his own gravitational pull on her.

But lately she'd been falling out of orbit.

It's this unspoken but unbearably _loud_ thing between them, nipping at their heels as they skirt around each other. It lies in their bed, pressing both to their respective edges. They teeter there, wait for the fall.

She's done waiting.

Noah is worried about her, she knows. He's trying, so hard, and it frustrates him because she isn't. She doesn't want to. It would require a part of her that's gone right now.

More and more, Rachel longs to chase it. She aches, her heart is a pulled muscle that doesn't beat the same anymore. _I could fix everything_, she thinks. _I could fix it_. But she might just destroy them in the process.

(Over-dramatic? Yes. Have you met her? It doesn't make it less true anyway.)

Her husband doesn't take kindly to being left behind.

_Just a little while_. She'd come back, she would. _I'll come home._

She finds a piece of paper, a pen. He deserves a note, at least.

Rachel bites her lip, pen poised, letting long minutes pass and the ink make tiny accusing dots on her fingertips that find their way to the paper.

_Wait for me._

_I'm sorry, it won't be long._

_I just need some time._

_You know why._

He deserves more than any of that though, he deserves the truth.

Her writing is swift and elegant, tidy except for the spots of hesitation.

She puts down the pen, turns to go.

Still, something weighs her down.

Rachel leaves her wedding ring, because she deserves some honesty too.

* * *

Yes. I am working on a sequel. It'll go in here eventually.


	8. Puck & Rachel, A Natural Progression

**By Its Very Definition**

**Title:** A Natural Progression

**Rating: **M

**Characters:** Puck/Rachel

**Note: **Another** puckrachel **drabble meme prompt "What happens after the morning after?"

* * *

**1. **

He touches her more often. She isn't sure if this is his way of simply indicating a desire to engage in more intercourse or something else. Rachel has no idea what the "something else" could be though. Considering his personality and inclinations, she should bet on sex.

It's just that it seems more than more touching. He puts an arm over her shoulders sometimes, when they happen to be sitting next to each other (the frequency of which increases day by day), stroking her collar bone lazily. He's more apt to snag her around the waist, pull her close for a noogie or a disorienting and outrageous lift over his shoulder when he decides he needs to get her away from the choir room to chill out. He'll play with the ends of her hair, sliding it between his fingers and tugging gently.

Sometimes he'll corner her with a smile and lean in slowly to bite lightly at her lower lip.

Her insides shake and shiver just recalling that. Still, she's convinced that she's made a bigger deal out of this than Noah is. They'd had sex, it had been hard and desperate, and of course she'd want to romanticize the experience. Chemistry, she tells herself, is not love.

If she convinces herself it's love, and lets him in… she'll regret it. That's just what Rachel has learned is true.

It doesn't stop her from sleeping with him again.

Or leaning into him when his arm is around her.

**2. **

She hesitates around him. He'll see her glancing at him from the corner of her eye, nibbling at her bottom lip, which never fails to make him do the same. But that's not the point. The point is that this _force_ of a girl without an ounce of tact or filter is acting tentative and shy now and he doesn't really get why.

Most girls he sleeps with tend to bloom for him, increasingly flirtatious and bold. He goes after strong women, who know exactly what they want and where they want it. Rachel is the very definition of his type. So it's a little awkward how she tiptoes around him. Honestly, he'd expected her to be all over him. Maybe even whipping out the crazy and mooncalf eyes. Puck had been anticipating the ride, but _he_ was the one trailing after her, stealing moments whenever he could. Yeah, he was trying to coax her. No matter how much he wanted to just _grab_ her and hitch her leg up onto his hip, he didn't want to fucking scare her.

He'd been aware that he'd wanted her for keeps ever since she'd woken tangled in his sheets, hair messy and lips chapped and bruised from his attentions and then, then she'd licked them and _smiled_ at him.

So he wanted her. And he went after what he wanted.

He was going to get that smile again, the one that seemed just for him.

No matter how long that took.

**3. **

He makes her laugh. Rachel just can't help it around him. He'll slip his fingers over the sides of her tummy, tickling and softly pinching, biting at her neck playfully until she squirms away, breathless, gasping.

Noah will come over unexpectedly, pull her feet into his lap as she tries to study, rubbing them until she moans in appreciation, then nipping at her toes. When they fall into bed eventually, she's shrieking with mirth. His eyes amused and then hot and dark, soon making her shriek for another reason altogether.

He likes her on top, lifting his hips frustratingly slow, chuckling at her whines. It's worth it when he finally relents, rising up to lick at her jaw, rubbing his nose against hers. Noah looks at her like she's the reason for light in his world. He looks at her like he'll never let her go. She doesn't want to go anywhere, though. Especially not when he's pressing against her again and again, gripping her hair and making her world drop away beneath her.

He makes her feel like gravity doesn't exist. Just them.

Despite herself, she just might be falling in love with him.

With him, she's part of something very special. She'd like it to stay that way.

**4. **

He likes to listen to her. They'll be wrapped up around each other and she'll chatter away as he half dozes, letting the words wash over him without too much concern for their meaning. Puck knows that what's important is that she's forgetting to be guarded around him, which means he's getting closer every day.

Rachel will play with his fingers, shift her back closer to his chest. He likes the feeling of her settling into him even more than he likes hearing her say whatever flits across that mind of hers.

This is the girl he wants, comfortable and unrestrained. Rachel has never needed to be anyone other than Rachel. Just like she's never asked him to give her more than what he can - even though he knows that she could ask for damn near anything at this point and it would be hers.

He's so fucked. It's kinda awesome.

He'll never tell her to shut up, because there are some words he's waiting on, and he won't do anything to delay them.

**5. **

After the morning after and the weeks after and another morning after and the effort after and after the walls come down and after the fall.

There is love.


	9. Mike & Tina, Undressed

**By Its Very Definition**

**Title:** Undressed

**Rating: **K+

**Characters: **Mike, Tina, minor Rachel

**Note: **The **mike_tina **LJ community has a drabble meme! Prompt: "AU role reversal. Mike is the unpopular shy punk/goth guy while Tina is one of the popular girls/athletes/Cheerios." Only Mike and Tina are switched, and there is no glee club… yet.

* * *

Mike remembers the first time he noticed her; _really_ noticed her. She'd always been there, at the corner of his eye - a sort of presence surrounding her that had nothing to do with the uniform she wore. (Not so unlike the sun, you could bask in her, but never look directly at her. She was blinding.)

So maybe he had more than noticed her before, maybe that was just the first time _she_ had noticed _him_.

He'd been walking down the hall, ear buds plugged into his ears, ducking and sliding and careful not to get in anyone's way. He'd made the mistake that morning of gelling his hair into a fohawk on top of painting his nails black - both just another experiment in his ever evolving style. Of course, the moment Puckerman had spotted him he'd rerouted his direction from Rachel Berry and upturned the slushie in his hand over Mike's head.

"You just can't pull it off, Chang." He'd tossed him a smirk and walked off whistling.

He'd stood there for a moment, just marinating in grape, before a small hand slipped into his and pulled him into the girl's restroom.

Rachel. Of course. "Do you have a change of clothes, Michael?"

No.

"Wait right here, alright? I will return promptly."

Okay.

She'd shot him a half smile and left briskly. A girl on a mission. He'd always liked that about her, as dramatic as she was, she still got what needed doing done. Someone you could count on.

It didn't really occur to him that he was in the _girl's_ restroom until he heard the creak of the door opening while he'd washed his face off - shirt already scrubbed free and laying over the heating vent. So there he was; topless, the tips of his hair dripping water, and probably looking like a complete perv.

Tina had halted at the sight of him, obviously startled and confused. Mortified, he'd stared right back at her, unable to look away. She'd always seemed to him to be the kindest and most reserved of the Cheerios, but he couldn't blame her for any screaming that was about to be inflicted on him.

Instead, she'd blushed and bit her lip. "I, um, am I in the wrong room? I mean, I'm so sorry - I didn't know this was taken. Oh wow, geez. Do you work out? Oh god." She'd covered her eyes with one hand. "I swear I'm not usually this awkward and creepy."

He'd felt himself smile, a little awestruck and flattered. "I know. I don't mind. And you're not; in the wrong room or creepy and awkward." Sheepishly, he admitted, "that's kinda my job right now."

She'd dropped her hand to her side and grinned at him, "Should I fear for my virtue? From this view I don't think I'd mind - that nail polish is working for me a little."

She was teasing him. He berated himself from thinking more of it than it really was, so he just stayed silent, and slid his hands into his pockets. This is what he got for going beyond the black clothing and studs - humiliation.

Thankfully, that was the moment Rachel returned (not nearly promptly enough, and yet far too soon), bearing a gym shirt and a towel. She'd stopped short at the sight of Tina, who was merely looking at her was raised eyebrows.

Slowly, Tina looked between the two of them, uttering a soft "oh".

"I'll just… try the other restroom. A bit of advice though; you're less likely to be interrupted if you stick to the janitor's closet." And then she'd slipped out the door.

Mike had felt himself deflate at her exit. He'd been right, of course, once you looked right at the sun, you never saw things the same.

Rachel had asked if he wanted her to clarify the situation to Tina. He'd said no. He didn't want to waste her time anymore than he already had.

Still, the next day he wore black nail polish.

And the next day after that.


	10. Puck & Rachel, The History Books Forgot

**By Its Very Definition**

**Title: **The History Books Forgot About Us

**Rating: **T

**Characters: **Rachel/Puck, The Berry Daddies, Mama Puckerman, Santana

**Note: **I will forever fill **puckrachel** prompts: "Your hair was long when we first met," from Regina Spektor's Samson. I just want to quickly say that I do love Santana - every bitchy inch of her. Enjoy!

* * *

**Age 4**

They'd moved back to her daddy's hometown from Chicago, because Lima was a place where daddy said they could leave their doors unlocked and still feel safe.

(Two years later they would start locking them after some teenagers deface their house, but by then grandma becomes sick, and daddy wants to stay close.)

Papa is the one who takes her to temple, daddy just smiling and saying he's happy to finish his paper work while they're away.

(Everyone there just assumes papa is a single dad. So they smile and welcome them and for two weeks she knows acceptance, enough to miss it when it's gone.)

Mrs. Goldburg wastes no time in introducing her to her son, Noah. He's scrawny and has a smudge on his cheek that Mrs. Goldburg scrubs away before leaving the two alone.

He says hi, she says hello-my-name-is-Rachel-I'm-new-in-town-your-mom's-pretty-I-like-your-shoes. He puts gum in her hair.

She cries when papa has to take her to cut it off. It's not the last time Noah Goldburg makes her cry.

**Age 7**

Daddy and her run into Mrs. Goldburg and Noah at the marketplace. Daddy greets them and stops to make small talk. Mrs. Goldburg looks somewhat wary at first but warms quickly to daddy's easy charm. Until he inquires after her husband's health. She glances at Noah who'd tensed at the question, and frankly informed them that Mr. Goldburg had gone. And that _she'd_ gone back to her maiden name, actually.

Noah had puffed up next to her and proudly announced "yeah, I'm a Puckerman now." His mom had rested her hand on his head and smiled softly.

Daddy had smiled, "It's a strong name, son." He'd looked at Ms. Puckerman. "A good name."

Rachel had stood there and listened, unusually quiet and wondering who cared about last names, Mrs. Goldburg or Ms. Puckerman, she was still the nicest lady Rachel knew.

And Noah? Noah would always be the boy who put gum in her hair and laughed.

A name didn't change anything.

**Age 13**

Santana Lopez gets a training bra, and that's all the boys in her grade care about, especially Noah.

They all trail after her and sometimes Rachel prays in temple for boobs because people look at Santana. No one ever looks at her. Sometimes she just wants people to _look_ at her.

(Noah does. But Noah looks at her like he's just waiting for his chance to make her cry. It's exhausting trying to hide from him.)

Santana is the first girl in their grade to get boobs and hips and wear lipstick. All the boys brag about how far they've gotten with her, and when the girls ask if it's true, Santana just smiles indulgently, like she knows a secret.

Rachel hates her.

Even more when she teases Noah about his "pussy" name.

By next week, everyone will be calling him Puck. Except Rachel.

Because Santana is still the center of attention and Puck is still mean, and her dads still lock their doors at night.

A name changes nothing.

**Age 16**

He kisses her, runs a hand through her hair.

So she pulls away and wonders why she let him touch her.

(He's lucky his head is shaved. He doesn't have to worry about anyone cutting it.)

It's okay that he doesn't want to be friends, she tells herself.

Who would want to be friends with him anyway?

(Sometimes she feels like the loneliest girl in the world.)

**Age 18**

She lets him get too close.

And is surprised when it doesn't hurt like she thought it would. In all ways.

Santana finds out a week later, and Rachel never sees the scissors coming.

He holds her while she cries, and when she's done, she breaks up with him again.

Noah is dating Santana less than a week later.

Nothing changes.

Except maybe the way he looks at her now.

**Age 21**

Her dads are moving back to Chicago; this will be the last winter break she spends in Lima.

After this, she'll have no reason to come back.

She spends the night before her morning flight with him.

Because he is this place, and everything about this town always seems to come back to him. Because over the years she could rely on him to be him, solid and _there_. Familiar.

And maybe she wouldn't leave if he could be safe too.

That night, he holds her close, and it's almost like security.

**Age 28**

She goes to her ten year reunion. Noah doesn't.

**Age 29**

Her hair is unbound and whirling in the wind. She feels a hand catch in it and gasps, turning around swiftly to see who would dare-

He smiles at her. She's in New York, she's left Lima, a long time ago.

But Lima found her anyway.

**Age 31**

"Are you ready to be Mrs. Puckerman?"

She laughs and touches her short curls.

Puckerman or not, she thinks, they're still Noah and Rachel.

Names don't change people, but that doesn't mean people don't change.


	11. Puck & Rachel, Waste My Time

**By Its Very Definition**

**Title: **Waste My Time

**Rating: **T

**Characters: **Puck/Rachel

**Note: **A **puckrachel **prompt "I said no to the coffee but yes to the date." Decided to go AU on this, ya'll.

* * *

The first time he asks her out, it's to his favorite steak house. When she just looks at him blankly for a moment, he can't help but babble on about how once she'd tasted how juicy and tender their steaks were, she wouldn't regret it. He hated how awkward this chick made him, from the very first time she'd started coming to this gym, when he'd watched a droplet of sweat run down her neck to her cleavage and known he was fucked.

So, of course, she just shakes her head and says "I'm vegan" before whisking away to the locker room.

Fuck, this was a girl he'd seen drop paragraphs in her interactions with the trainers and fellow members, and she couldn't spare more than two words to reject him?

Whatever. All he needed was one word and he was _going to get it_.

The second time it's to an off Broadway play. He'd actually done a little eavesdropping this time to avoid another steak + vegan = strike out. Turns out the girl was big into musicals. It was kinda cool how passionate she was about it, declaring that Broadway was not far off at all. She practically _sparked_ with ambition. _Huge_ turn on.

He knows an actual Broadway play would have been a bit more ideal, but his buddy got him a sweet deal on these tickets, and money has been tight lately.

It's foolproof, he thinks, who could turn down an evening with him on top of some cheesy romantic musical shit?

Which is why he can't understand what she's furrowing her brow over as she examines the ticket he hands her.

Worried that he'd fucked up and picked a play she didn't like, he muttered that they didn't have to go; it would probably be lame anyway.

At that, her eyes had snapped up to his and narrowed. She'd coldly stated "I'll be busy" and briskly departed for a treadmill, plugging in her earbuds.

He didn't get what he could have done to offend her, miserably thinking that at least that was one more word than last time. It wasn't until he saw a poster advertising the very play he'd asked her to that he realized what went wrong.

Staring back at him was the girl he just couldn't impress. Apparently the star of something he'd called "lame".

But at least he knew her name now: Rachel Berry.

A third attempt: "I don't drink alcohol."

Fourth: "Bowling shoes are a landmine of germs."

Fifth: "Dairy isn't good for the vocal chords." (Also, again, she's a _vegan_. Like he knew what all that shit meant.)

He gave up. She was hot, and there was this way she moved like she expected everyone to sit up and notice, and whenever she bent and stretched on a yoga mat it looked like she was reaching out to embrace something. Sure, she was beautiful, and he wanted her, but she didn't want him.

Even he could take a hint sometimes.

Two weeks later, he spies Rachel watching him do push-ups from where she's working on the elliptical. When their eyes met, her gaze flickered away for just a moment before a soft smile lifted the corners of her mouth.

One smile. That's all it took.

He approaches her the next day, determined and not willing to go down without just one more try. This time, this will be the last time, because he's going to get it right.

"Rachel," she turns and he can't read her expression, he goes on anyway. "Okay, listen, I know I've fucked up royally on all of this, and maybe you're about to slap a restraining order on my ass or something, but I think you should give me a chance instead. See, I didn't know a damn thing about you two months ago, but all I wanted to do was change that and I know shit now, even with you never saying more than thirty words to me. I know you take care of yourself, because that's what's going to get you what you want and with a body and voice like yours, you totally will. I know you're a hippie that loves trees and bunnies, but you love people too - you give a shit. I know you don't waste time, but if you'd waste some time on me, I don't think you'd regret it. Because I want to know more about you, and maybe you'd see you want to know me too. So could you please just go out for coffee with me, just for fifteen minutes?"

It was the most he'd ever said in one go in his entire fucking life, but she was biting her lip, looking soft and warm. She looked welcoming.

Finally, she spoke. "I... don't really drink coffee."

He felt himself deflate. He was fucking canceling his membership to this gym because this was more humiliation than any man could take. He wanted to just go home and drink himself stupid.

Until, "But I would love to spend fifteen minutes getting to know you, um..."

He grinned. "Noah Puckerman."

As it turns out, fifteen minutes sometimes translates into a lifetime, but neither of them could say they regretted it.


	12. Puck & Rachel, Across The Room

**By Its Very Definition **

**Title: **Across The Room

**Rating: **T

**Characters: **Puck/Rachel

**Note: **An AU, prompted by "Please don't be in love with someone else / please don't have somebody waiting on you" from the song Enchanted, Taylor Swift. Also applies to the title. I deviated from the prompt because I got stuck and just needed a way out. So. Go read it.

* * *

They meet in the middle (of nowhere), in a place where they are nameless despite her nametag and his various nicknames, on their way to be somebody. They meet in the middle heading in opposite directions, except for this little detour.

She serves him his beer, he asks her when she gets off, she pats his cheek and says "Not with you". Her nametag says Rachel, and he calls himself Puck.

They're both just passing through on their way to other things.

Except for a little detour.

**{&}**

Puck searches high and low and finally lands a job as a cook in a greasy diner that seems to be popular amoung truckers. It's "the busy season" and the owner, Jeff, doesn't mind hiring some temp help as long as he knows how to flip an egg and "move his fucking ass". Puck knows both, and more, and it doesn't take long before he's earned the confidence of everyone in the diner. Jeff gruffly calls him decent. Puck's worked in some of the finest restaurants in New York - he knows he's more than just decent, but he's not the ass he was in high school, swaggering about and talking about how he's hot shit.

Still an ass, of course, just reigned in a bit. Mellowed and humbled by his repeated attempts to "make it", lugging around his guitar with a subtle arrogance. Because now he _knows_ he's hot shit, and he doesn't need to convince or prove it to anyone.

He's going places, after all.

**{&}**

The first thing Rachel learned working in bars, classy or dives, is that you have to know how to read people. The second thing, of course, is how to flirt based on what you pick up from that. Fact is, you get more tips that way, and after she decided to strike out on her own without her dads' support, she needs every dollar she can make. Yes, sometimes she regrets telling her dads that it was important to go her own way, and that being as spoiled as she is was doing her no favors in her auditions, but she likes herself now. She likes what a hard day's work does for her self-esteem, she's more than her talent, she's worth something.

It turns out that sometimes being naturally gifted isn't enough to feel good when you're terrified that you're nothing without it.

So she flirts, sometimes it's easy, other times she draws on her acting lessons to hide her irritation. She learns quickly that men take touch as a cue to touch back, more than they're welcome to.

The third thing she learns is how to handle herself. Because when she gets to New York, she'll need it.

**{&}**

Most days after his shift ends he'll end up back at her bar, if only for that moment when their eyes meet and she bites her lower lip before approaching to take his order. He wonders whether she does it on purpose, but it really doesn't matter either way; it's working.

Everything she does works for him, those causal brushes against his arm as she sets his drink in front of him, the way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she smiles at him, the way she moves like a dancer.

The fact that she wants him back.

Yeah, that works for him too.

**{&}**

She can't help herself, even if she knows better. There's something about him, a magnetism and North always seems to point to him. He's like a song she doesn't know the lyrics to, but she'd love to.

He makes her want to sing.

Her co-worker, Denise, teases her about the man that makes her break her personal rules. Don't touch, unless you want to be touched.

She blushes and attempts to primly tell her that she'd never be so uncouth as to go home with a customer, a stranger.

Denise just rolls her eyes and drawls out that sex doesn't have to always be flowers and chocolates and sitcom romance, it can be a secret the moon ain't telling.

Just silhouettes, Rachel thinks. There's a certain appeal to that.

She glances over at him, and lets herself want everything.

Then she shakes her head, and grabs his beer.

Forgets.

**{&}**

He grazes his fingertips over her hand one day when she gives him his bill. She glances up, wide-eyed, because this is the first time in the month he's been coming here that he's done more than tilt a smile at her in reply to her touching.

He asks her when she gets off, his smile fading, his eyes hot on hers.

Rachel swallows and rasps out that he should come back in a half hour.

She expects him to leave.

He waits.

**{&}**

Puck leaves a hickey on the inside of her thigh.

Rachel leaves scratches on his back.

He asks her where she's been while tangled in her.

She asks him where he's going pressing her lips to the lobe of his ear.

And then they forget about answers and lose themselves in each again.

**{&}**

In the morning they make breakfast together. He catches her hand and nips at her fingers when she reaches over to grab a slice of apple. She huffs and calls him a bully, unconsciously curling her fingers around his belt.

She should be tense, she thinks, or embarrassed or making a dash for the door.

Instead she shares a meal with a man she barely knows, and then lets him have her against the kitchen counter as they're cleaning up.

(Silhouettes in the light of day.)

She arches against him and laughs breathlessly.

He smiles into her shoulder.

**{&}**

Puck's been here far too long. This was only supposed to be a month's stay, month and a half tops, before he got caught up in her and forgot where he was going.

He has more than enough money to make the rest of the trip to Los Angelus, maybe even enough to get a seedy apartment before he found himself a job there and started chasing his dream.

Scary thing is, he's started to dream about her instead of a mass of screaming fans, instead of what he's wanted since he first plucked a guitar string at seven.

He can't get that here. This town is the place people go to disappear, not to be somebody.

Rachel, he knows, has somewhere to be too.

He also knows that it's not even close to where he's going.

Still. This was only supposed to be a detour, for both of them.

It can't be more than that.

**{&}**

He says he has something waiting for him in LA.

She says she has dreams to fulfill in New York.

He says there's nothing here for either of them.

They both have something they love somewhere else.

Neither of them can let themselves think that they have love here too.

**{&}**

They do what they meant to do in this town; pass on through.

**{&}**

Two years later, with names made and dreams coming true, they meet in the middle of where they found each other.

Always chasing after what they love.


End file.
